


On the silver screen

by venus43



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, Internal Conflict, M/M, Sex Tapes, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29785623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venus43/pseuds/venus43
Summary: It makes him feel so dumb, looking at the camera and imagining it in a situation he doesn’t even know how to ask for, and he’s sure that Dream can tell what he’s thinking, though if he has he hasn’t said anything about it – which George is grateful for, because he knows it must be impossible to miss.or, george finds out he has a thing for being on camera
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 492





	On the silver screen

**Author's Note:**

> hey, so new fic !!  
> took me a little while to write and i'd say i'm happy with the final result, so i hope everyone else enjoys reading too! I really can't write an authors note rn..  
> as with all my fics, if the cc ever states that they're uncomfortable with shipping I'll take this down :))

Being on camera has never really been a problem for George.

Admittedly, he’s always been quite confident in his looks, he knows his best angles and he’s never really been scared to press the record button and ramble for an hour, but still, he’s a private person. He doesn’t share what he doesn’t have to, and he’s not one for telling long stories about his past endeavours because people just don’t need to know – he’s allowed his secrets.

And he understands that he and Dream are very different people, but Dream’s willingness to share those small details about his personal life still confuses him, because some things they don’t need to share.

They’ve been tiptoeing along that thin line between friends and more than that for a while now, and if it weren’t for the ocean between them then things would probably be different. George smiles at even the mention of Dream’s name, and the other has confessed to doing the exact same. They tell jokes that neither are too sure are jokes, and Dream knows far more about him than anyone else does – even if it’s not a lot.

They’re comfortable, despite the fact that each step feels as though they’re crossing a boundary that they can’t come back from.

“I was like twenty,” Dream says into a call one day, George sat on the other end with his chin resting on his hand. He can’t remember how the conversation started, it had been a long night of stupid games and their normal overly friendly banter, and the sun is starting to rise again. He shouldn’t even be awake right now; his whole body sagging against his desk. “And my girlfriend at the time suggested it.”

“Yeah?” George asks.

“Honestly, I was a bit scared,” Dream admits, and George can hear him breathe into his mic, probably hovering over it as he speaks, “I mean it’s a fucking sex-tape, who wouldn’t be?”

George hums in response.

“It was hot,” Dream says, “After the initial fear at least – _god_ , I was so worried it’d get out somehow.”

Eyeing the camera that’s set up on the tri-pod next to him, George tilts his head, “It didn’t though?”

“No, it didn’t,” Dream confirms, “And we deleted it pretty quickly, only really watched it a couple of times.”

The sunlight flickers through the blinds, streaks of yellow and red shining through and painting lines on the carpeted floors, and George doesn’t have to check the time to know that even for his sleep schedule it’s far too early in the morning to be out of bed.

“I’d do it again though,” Dream says, voice lower than before, “With the right person.”

George’s breathing spikes. “Oh?”

“What about you Georgie?” Dream asks, “Tell me some of your dirty secrets.”

“Fuck off,” George says, scoffing, and if he had his camera on he’s sure that right now he’d be ridiculed for the flush on his neck and silence hangs in the air, the tension thick and insufferable. Still, he isn’t let off that easily.

Dream exhales loudly, a playful edge in his tone when he says, “No, I mean it.”

“I don’t have any,” George lies, leaning back in his chair and wondering if Dream will push it even further, because this feels like unseen territory, usually they aren’t this blunt with it, but here they are.

“Sure you do,” Dream says, and George can imagine him sat with a smug look on his face from behind the screen, “I mean, have you ever thought about doing something like that?”

Feigning ignorance, George’s lips part, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from saying anything too quickly, “Like what?” he asks.

“Recording it.”

It’s only a few simple words but George’s mind has already started running, he supposes that somewhere, at some point he will have thought about it, maybe in his more private fantasies when he’s touched himself and out of the corner of his eye he’ll have seen his camera pointing towards him and thought about turning it on – performing for it, but it’s not something he’s willing to think about properly, definitely not share.

“No,” He says shakily, hoping it’s believable but both him and Dream know it isn’t.

“Never?”

George takes a sharp breath, “Never.”

He can’t remember falling asleep that night, but when he wakes up it’s safe to assume he fell asleep while they were talking, even if he’s been kicked from the call. His head’s on his desk, touching the edge of his keyboard, and his back is bent uncomfortably to accommodate his position on the chair.

His headphones have half fallen off, and when he lifts his head up to glance to the side, it’s not as bright as it had been before.

It’s disorienting, being up at god knows when, and it somewhat reminds him of the times where he would talk to his friends deep into the night by his computer, before they were close enough for him to feel comfortable in switching to his phone and falling asleep in his bed like he would on any other day.

When he checks his phone there are a couple new messages, the few he had been ignoring popping back up, but nothing from Dream. It takes George a second to remember the conversation they were having before he fell asleep, and the tips of his ears turn red but he’s so glad that even in his sleep deprived state he was able to keep his own thoughts to himself.

Drowsily, George slides his chair back, getting up and manoeuvring around so he’s standing by the side of it, he presses the button on his PC, turning it off and stopping the whirring noise to plunge the room into complete silence.

He stands there for a moment, maybe waiting for his phone to ding and for something to come through though he isn’t entirely sure why. When nothing seems to happen, he trudges over to his bed, falling onto the patterned sheets and attempting to go back to sleep.

~

They don’t talk about it, in fact, they seem to ignore it even happened.

Nothing significant changes between the two of them, or if it does George doesn’t notice, they still flirt and tease each other relentlessly and George still mocks all the dumb things Dream will say. But now, when George sits alone late at night, he thinks of the story Dream told, (replaces Dream’s ex with himself in his version) and he’ll stare at his own camera as though it holds all the mysteries in the world.

He doesn’t know why Dream’s confession is plaguing is thoughts so much, maybe it’s because of how close they’ve gotten, but he’s had his fair share of thoughts about Dream and him together – these ones just feel different.

As of late their chemistry has been far more obvious to those on the outside, and their friends make fun of them when they check up on them both and see that they’ve been sat in a call together for hours on end.

Sometimes their interactions are less of them talking and more of them just enjoying each other’s presence, and Dream will share his screen and play a game in partial silence just so neither of them feel bored, and it doesn’t help how hard George is falling for him.

“Would you ever come visit me?” Dream asks during one of their many conversations, and to George the question seems to have come out of nowhere.

“What?” George asks, his eyes wide and this time he does have his camera on – after showing off some package that came in the mail earlier that week.

Dream, uncharacteristically blunt, continues on, “Well I was just thinking, we have to meet at one point, rather now than later.”

“Of course we do,” George says, “Whenever you want."

“Next week,” Dream says immediately, and the shock that George feels is so clearly written on his features, “I’ll buy your ticket, and you could stay with me if you wanted, I just really want to see you.”

Momentarily, George is stunned, there’s no doubt in his mind that he wants to meet up with the other, but Dream’s sudden proposal has caught him off guard. He finds himself nodding, looking up at his camera and thinking of Dream staring at him from the other side of the world.

“Next week it is then.”

~

The first few steps into America are strange. People rush past him and at first he feels lost in the swarm, going through each section of the airport as though he’s on autopilot. The first real thing he does is text Dream, tell him he’s waiting for his bags and Dream messages back almost immediately, saying he’s waiting by the exit.

Dream’s done him the favour of telling him what he’s wearing already, because even though he’s seen Dream’s face before, picking him out from the crowd of people is sure to be difficult.

George isn’t panicking, he’s scared of course, and he feels as though he’s drowning for a second before he calms himself down, but he isn’t panicking. He see’s Dream long before the other sees him, and he stops, holding onto his suitcase in one hand and holding the other in front of his face, just above his mouth.

Dream’s far more attractive in person. Granted, the blurry photos George had received in the past had never painted too clear of a picture, and when they face-timed Dream liked to keep the camera on his forehead – unless George asked him to move it.

The dirty blond hair and barely tan skin is hard to miss, and even though he lives in Florida, Dream is dangerously close to George’s own complexion. He’s tall – not that George didn’t expect him to be – but 6’3 is so much taller than George had originally thought, and he wants to run up to Dream and envelope him in a crushing hug, but he doesn’t know how well he would take to it.

In front of him, Dream is looking around curiously, a disgustingly green hoodie on his torso and George just waits for him to notice. After a moment, Dream turns, looking directly at the shorter and his eyes widen immediately, face forming a grin as George starts to walk towards him.

Dream’s arms open, and George takes it as a sign to step into them, hooking his own arms around Dream and hugging him tightly. Dream’s chin fits on top of George’s head perfectly, touching the dark brown hair and George can feel him smile against it.

Above him, Dream is warm, and George never wants to leave the embrace, but he knows that at some point he’ll have.

“Hi,” Dream says meekly, looking down at George with a fond expression.

George smiles, “Hi.”

At first it’s slightly awkward, Dream offers to take George’s things for him, and George tries to tell him that it’s fine, but Dream is having none of it. He grabs George’s suitcase and carries it the entire way, up until they reach Dream’s car, where he ends up placing it in the back.

When they’re getting in, George almost slides into the driver’s seat, and Dream laughs at him affectionately as he walks around the other side to get to the right place.

The whole drive feels slightly bizarre, they make conversation (which is mainly just Dream rambling about how much he thinks George will like Florida) but there’s something unspoken in the air, hanging in front of both of them.

The trip from the airport to Dream’s place isn’t too long, and they eventually run out of things to say, George realising how tired he actually is and trying to find a way to sit comfortably on the seats.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Dream teases, and George listens, even though it would be so easy to close his eyes and wake up when they arrive.

Dream’s house is nicer than George had expected, he looks out of the car window with tired eyes and Dream offers to carry him in, but he says no.

Being in a foreign country is odd, even the air feels different, and it’s colder than George had thought it would be, his hoodie only just managing to keep him warm as he stands outside the car door. He follows Dream towards the house, and George says that he can carry his own things again but Dream still ignores his protests and says he shouldn’t have to.

Dream carries his luggage up the stairs as well, he sets it outside of the guest room and tells George to settle in, maybe come down and help Dream order food in a bit, but as soon as George steps into the room he’s hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion that makes him strip down quickly and settle in between the sheets, and he falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed.

~

By the time George wakes up, there’s light shining in from the window – he doesn’t know how long he’s slept for but by the way the sun is barely in the sky, he can assume it’s still early in the morning.

It takes a lot of energy for George to even sit up, and he realises that he never even unpacked when he has to grab his suitcase and open it up to find a fresh pair of clothes.

It’d probably be rude to just go wandering around in Dream’s house to find the shower, and he’s sure that he smells bad and his hair is a mess, but instead of trying to fix it, George just pulls on a large shirt and some loose-fitting pants before he steps out of the room.

From the top of the stairs George can smell the faint scent of food, he can’t quite distinguish what it is, so he follows where it comes from, his feet leading him down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

He stops halfway, a stupid smile on his face as he watches Dream dance around with a pan in his hand. It’s ridiculous, Dream looking as though he’s about to drop it and spill the contents onto the floor with each turn he makes and there’s music quietly ringing out from the radio on the island into the centre of the room.

“What are you doing?” George asks and he can tell that Dream was caught off guard by how he jumps, spinning around to face where George is standing with surprise on his face.

Dream offers a lopsided smile, lifting up the pan so George can see it, “Pancakes?” He explains, “Figured you’d be hungry.”

At Dreams words, George can hear his stomach growl, and he thinks back to the last time he ate – at the airport right before he’d set off. He steps down the stairs to get closer to where Dream is standing, “I’ve never actually had American pancakes,” George says, pulling up a tall chair so he can sit behind the counter and not get in the way.

“Well you’ll like them,” Dream tells him, and he grabs a bowl from the side, placing the pan down onto the hob that’s turned off.

“What’s the smell?” George asks, looking around to see if Dream had made something else.

And Dream has to go through explaining how he’d already tried to make something earlier, but he’d spent too long on his phone not bothering to check up on it and he’d managed to burn the whole thing, making George laugh airily poke fun at him – with Dream just calling him an idiot and going back to what he was doing.

The food’s good and George smiles as he takes every bite; he looks up at Dream and can’t help the warmth in his chest when he grasps how easy it feels to be there, talking as though nothings any different.

Maybe things felt tense the day before, but this is something he can get used to – being in front of Dream and actually able to reach out and brush his arm if he wants to, and Dream seems to bounce on his feet as he talks about how happy he is to have George in his house too.

Even in person, they’re still making the dumb flirty jokes they always have, and George can’t tell if that’s just Dream or it’s something more. And the first time that George feels slightly funny about their situation is when Dream suggests they watch a movie together.

It’s not a particularly scary movie, or at least George doesn’t think so, he watches it with a blank face, occasionally flicking through his phone in disinterest, and on the other side of the couch, Dream sits alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dream flinch, and he looks up, studying his face carefully. “You okay?” George asks, and Dream nods but he can tell it’s just a front.

Giving into his own impulses, George shuffles over to where Dream is sitting, letting their shoulders touch and Dream immediately lifts his arm to let George get even closer. He rests his head on George’s, and he shuts his eyes and buries his face in the others hair whenever something scares him.

Eventually, George turns the movie off, trying not to laugh at Dream’s attempted bravery and grabbing his arm to lead him up to his room.

For reasons they don’t actually discuss, George ends up sleeping in Dream’s bed that night, and they wake up tangled in each other’s limbs and don’t move from the position for far too long.

It feels natural, and they’re doing everything a normal couple would even if they don’t call themselves one.

To George, it’s still confusing, he has no problem with their intimacy, but he still wants more from it and he thinks Dream does too. He’ll catch the other looking at him with dark eyes, and when they lie under the sheets of their bed together, Dream’s breath will ghost across his neck and make him shiver.

Sometimes, when he looks at Dream his mind wanders to places it shouldn’t be, and he wants to know more about the story that consumes his every thought, whether or not Dream would want to try it again – be with him while a camera judges their every move – but he can’t ask for that, he doesn’t even know what they are.

“Dream!” George yells, running around the kitchen while Dream chases him, he’s holding a bowl filled with pancake mix and it’s a struggle to not spill it as he tries to side-step out of Dream’s grasp. They’ve fallen into the domesticated routine of making breakfast together whenever they can, and George loves it.

Dream dives towards him, and George runs around the island in the middle of the room, jumping out of his skin when Dream completely goes against any unspoken rules they’ve had in this game and tries to hop over the counter. He nearly takes George out when he lands on the other side – with George almost falling back and getting the batter everywhere.

It’s not surprising when Dream finally kisses him, he’s still holding the bowl and they’ve burnt so many pancakes even though they do this so often that George would have thought they’d be good at it. He kisses back immediately, months and months of known but unspoken feelings finally leading up to this moment, and it’s by no means anticlimactic because to George it feels right.

After that, not much changes for the two of them, they’ve already been in a relationship they suppose, so all they can do now is add a title to it.

Almost all of George’s things find their way into Dream’s room at some point, his clothes are in the closet and most of the drawers, and neither of them have to speak too much about the new development, because there’s nothing they really have to discuss – or at least that’s what George tells himself.

The first time they have sex it’s slow, Dream makes sure to be gentle when he takes George apart on his fingers, and George insists on lying on his back, facing up at the other so he can see his face, even if he knows it’ll hurt more. Perhaps they rush it a little, desperate to be close to each other and it’s slightly pathetic how long it takes them to reach their peak.

When George cums, moaning brokenly into Dream’s mouth and feeling his legs wrap tightly around the others waist, he blocks out Dream’s sweet words, thinking of that dumb fucking call from before he’d arrived, and how amazing this would be if they had a camera pointing to the both of them too.

On their first real date, Dream insists on making sure George is completely in the dark about his plans.

George wakes up with Dream next to him, shirtless and in a pair of dark baggy sweatpants that hang low on his hips, and when he opens his eyes George presses a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth.

“Morning,” George says.

“Good morning,” Dream responds, sleep evident in his tone, “You ready sweetheart? Our date starts in a few hours.”

“What?” George asks, moving his face up and away from the crook of Dream’s neck. “Can’t we just cuddle for a bit?”

He lets his lower lip stick out, looks up at Dream with wide, innocent eyes and Dream scoffs, knowing George is abusing his knowledge on how weak Dream has always been when he does this, even before they had started dating.

“Fine,” Dream says, “But not for long.”

They end up wrapped in each other’s arms for most of the day.

Dream has to drag them both out of the house at around 6pm, they walk around the streets hand in hand, and Dream covers George’s eyes when they finally get to the building.

“I had a few things planned,” Dream says, words coming out far too quickly, “But we didn’t really get out of bed in time, and I didn’t want to have to rush you around or anything, so I figured we could just skip ahead and do dinner. If that’s okay with you?”

Laughing, George moves his hands up to touch Dream’s wrists, “That’s more than okay with me.”

Dream’s hands lower slowly, finally letting George see where they are.

“You remembered,” George says, a stupid smile on his face. He looks up at the sign on the restaurant, glancing over to Dream and raising his eyebrows, “Do you even like sushi?”

“I hope I do?”

George barks out a laugh, “God, you’re such an idiot Dream.”

He doesn’t really mean it.

George loves every second of it, with him enjoying the food a lot more than Dream does, though he doesn’t complain, and they’re both laughing at Dream’s pathetic (and failed) attempts to not to drop anything or spill it down his shirt.

It’s probably the happiest George has felt in a while, and when Dream goes to pay he stops him, practically has to force him to split the bill too.

Everything’s going well, they leave the restaurant with a grin on their faces and it looks as though they’re going back to the house until Dream stops them when they’re by the entrance, telling George to wait outside while he dips through the door.

George has barely been waiting for a minute when Dream comes back out, locking the door with something in his hand. He waits for Dream to turn around for him to see what it is, and he recognises it immediately as Dream’s camera.

It’s not as good as George’s, far older and of a lesser quality and for a split-second George wonders if that’s the same one that Dream used to record the tape he’d spoken about before, but he shakes the thought away before he can become too consumed in it.

George looks up, noticing how Dream is following his gaze and smiling as though nothing happened. “Where are we going?” He asks, plastering a smile on his face.

“Just a walk,” Dream says, using the hand that isn’t holding the camera to grab at George’s and swing it up into the air between them.

The air is warm and even though it’s getting late, the sky isn’t too dark. Streetlights shine down and illuminate the ground in front of them as well as both of their faces. Their shoulders brush with each step they take, and they talk in hushed tones, even if it is only the both of them out at this time.

Trying not to alert George, Dream snaps a photo of the other, the flash blinding him when it finally registers, and the slightly confused expression on his face makes for an even better shot.

They grapple over the camera, George trying to grab it out of the other’s hands and press the delete button but Dream just holds it up in the air out of George’s reach, saying he likes it.

“You’re so pretty Georgie,” he says, the honesty showing in his eyes as he stares at George as though he’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen, “You should be on the silver screen.”

George rolls his eyes, pink on his cheeks, “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” Dream says defensively, “Though I am glad I get to keep you for myself. You’re even better in real life.” He steals a kiss, the blush spreading over the top of George’s face, and he watches Dream’s hands as they stay up in the air and trace over the picture.

It makes him feel so dumb, looking at the camera and imagining it in a situation he doesn’t even know how to ask for, and he’s sure that Dream can tell what he’s thinking, though if he has he hasn’t said anything about it – which George is grateful for, because he knows it must be impossible to miss.

Dream would have to be an idiot to not notice the way George’s vision drifts over to the stupid camera by his monitor whenever they have sex, whenever he’s being pressed down into the sheets, with Dream’s hands roaming all over his body. And he knows exactly what he wants, but he’ll never ask for it, because if Dream knew just how much he thinks of that story he told, then he’d never hear the end of it.

He’s not dissatisfied with their sex life – no, of course he’s not – every moment between the two of them he enjoys, but still, he craves more, even if he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it.

“George?” Dream asks, cutting off his thoughts and George realises that he’s holding his breath, quickly looking away and pretending nothing happened.

He lets out a breathy laugh, acting as though Dream is the one that’s acting strange and he continues to walk, squeezing Dream’s hand in his and tugging him forwards, “Keep walking,” George says, making sure to look everywhere but at the camera and Dream’s eyes, and thankfully, Dream seems to drop it.

~

Dream definitely didn’t drop it.

George should have known something was up when Dream had said he thought they should talk, possibly try something new, and George vows to let him speak before fully freaking out.

It’s not news to George that Dream is observant, he always watches over him and remembers the littlest things that no-one else would, and when Dream sits him down on the bed, looking shy and slightly bashful, George assumes the worst.

“What’s going on?” He asks quickly, glancing around to see if something’s about to jump out at him.

Dream’s quick to stop him from getting too panicked, holding onto his hand and rubbing his thumb against the backs of George’s fingers. “It’s nothing bad,” Dream says straight away, “And it’s nothing you can’t refuse.”

George doesn’t say anything, he cocks his head to the side and waits for Dream to elaborate instead.

“I know we’ve talked about this before,” Dream explains, “But since then we’ve never really spoken about it, and there’s nothing wrong with how we have sex, I love it I promise, but maybe you’d be open to changing things up.”

From behind his body, Dream pulls out a camera. It’s George’s, and he looks up at Dream, puzzled.

Sometimes, the things Dream say leave George at a loss for words, but normally that’s because of his teasing and because he’s making jokes that make others laugh at both of their expense – which George doesn’t mind of course, but now George doesn’t know what to say only because of how strange this situation seems to him.

Does that mean Dream’s noticed? Or is it because of Dream’s own fantasies?

Either way, George doesn’t speak, choosing to stay sat in silence.

“I figured if you said yes, using your camera would be better,” Dream adds, “So if in the end you aren’t comfortable with keeping it you could delete it straight away, know I don’t have a copy or anything.”

They stay still for far too long, George trying to figure out if this is what he actually wants because he’s thought about it for so long, but now that it’s being presented to him so easily, he doesn’t know if he can do it.

Stretching a hand out, George reaches forwards to take the camera, his palms sweating. He almost drops it, bringing it over into his lap, and he looks down at the black screen, seeing his own reflection glaring back at him.

He looks up at Dream again, eyes scanning over his every feature, and George really can’t get over how stunning he is, how pretty his eyes are and how good he looks, even when he’s sat nervously awaiting a response from the other.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, clicking the button on the top of the camera to turn it on.

Dream’s studying him as he switches through the different settings, and George takes a shallow breath before clicking the record button, watching the back light up with a dim red. He passes it back to Dream, who turns it around so it’s no longer facing him and is on the smaller instead.

George has barely registered what he’s agreed to, he’s filled with lust, the realisation that he’s about to have his biggest fantasy come true hitting him like a truck. His whole body is pliable and it’s easy for Dream to prod at his shoulder, gently push him down so he’s lying on his back and looking up at Dream – who moves so he’s directly above him.

“Georgie?” Dream asks, holding the blinking video camera in his hand, and underneath him George is staring with glassy eyes.

He feels shy, knowing his every move will be picked up by that stupid thing, and the urge to cower in on himself and cover up his face is getting too much.

“You can back out of this,” Dream tells him reassuringly, “Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

George nods, looking to the side at the blank wall to distract himself, but it proves useless when Dream brings a hand to his face and forces his eyes back on him.

“I’m not doing anything until let me know you’re okay with this,” Dream continues, “Verbally.”

“I do want it,” George mumbles, looking up at Dream, “I do.”

“And you promise that you’ll tell me if it gets too much?” Dream asks.

He hesitates for half a second, and he knows that Dream noticed it, but he fills the air with reassurance as soon as he can, “I will, I promise.”

Dream nods in understanding, holding the camera above George so the shot is framing his face perfectly. He slides a hand under the smaller’s shirt, cold fingertips making him flinch, but he melts into the touch eventually.

The hand rubs by his ribs for a second, keeping him calm and the fear that he had first felt when Dream had brought up recording this has almost gone away. The touch disappears while Dream shuffles off of the bed, and George watches him go to place the camera down so it can face them from his desk by the end of the bed.

The red-light glares at him, and Dream pulls him back by the shirt so he’s sitting closer to the edge and closer to the others body.

Dream places a hand around the back of Georges neck to bring them closer, kneeling down on the bed and making sure George’s body is flat on the mattress. They’re side on to the camera, and George tries to glance towards it, but he’s pulled into a kiss before he can.

Dream starts off slow, getting more confident as the kiss grows deeper. He bites at George’s lips until they’re red and raw, making them slick with spit and the hand that isn’t behind George’s head holds onto his waist.

George fists a hand in Dream’s shirt, his legs bending and feet resting on the bed as he shifts to accommodate Dream’s body on top of his. He whines between their lips, possibly to quiet for Dream to hear it but knowing the other, he probably did.

The kiss is messy and Dream’s trying to break it, but George isn’t letting him, panting against his lips and already getting worked up even though they’ve barely started.

Reluctantly, George lets him end the kiss, running his tongue along Dream’s lower lip to draw a sound out of the others mouth before they part. Dream tugs his own shirt up over his head, throwing it to the side before diving back down to meet George’s lips.

They move avidly and George lets the other drag him out of his clothes, his shirt coming off first, and Dream ducks down to scrape his teeth against George’s chest, eagerly making his way down from his sternum to his abdomen, with tan fingers moving wildly to undo the tied knot on his sweatpants and pull them down past his legs.

Dream grips at George’s thighs, nipping at the insides and he looks up at George for confirmation before dipping his fingers into George’s underwear and taking them off quickly. He chucks them onto the pile, touching every part of George’s body except for the place that he wants most, and on the bed, George whines, pouting to try and get things back to how he wants.

Dream takes off his own pants next, shuffling out of his clothes until they’re both completely naked and craving for the others touch.

George lets Dream connect their lips again, cupping the side of his face and George’s eyes slide shut, him letting the other guide his every move. The feeling of Dream’s skin against his is irresistible, he feels Dream’s chest beat up and down, and it seems as though Dream’s lips are laced with something sweet and addictive, because George can’t seem to get enough.

He whimpers, loud this time and it’s embarrassing how wrecked he feels at so little. The feeling of wet lips against his disappears as Dream pulls away and George moans, letting out a shaky breath.

“Hands and knees,” Dream says assertively, leaning back to show off his body; he turns to look to the side. “And face that way.”

George follows his gaze to the edge of the bed, where he can lie to face the desk and he doesn’t move immediately, glancing up at Dream for half a second before rolling onto his front.

He clambers into the position, looking down at his hands and Dream settles in behind him, fingers tracing his sides to cause George to exhale loudly, not fully sure of what to do next.

“Look at the camera sweetheart.”

Fingers rake through George’s hair, pulling his head up and forcing him to face the red blinking light. He tries to look away but it’s useless, the grip Dream has in his hair is tight and resisting it would do nothing.

His arms are barely propping him up, his shaking making him unstable and it seems as though he’s about to fall every other second, but whenever he dips down slightly, Dream tugs his hair tightly again, keeping him in place.

“Don’t look away,” Dream says, voice gravelly.

George may not be able to see him, but he knows the taller’s eyes are definitely on his body, one hand fisted into his hair and the other on his waist, moving up and down consistently to caress the bare skin.

His head falls when Dream finally lets go, sending him falling down onto the soft sheets. His cheeks go pink when he remembers the camera that’s pointing to them, the one that’s catching every embarrassing display that he makes, and he picks himself back up almost immediately, trying to regain any dignity that he can.

“Are you ready baby?” George hears Dream ask from behind him, and his eyes drift back up to the camera, biting his lip nervously as he nods. But obviously that’s not enough for the younger – who sighs, two firm hands landing back on George’s waist to make him flinch slightly. “Nothing’s happening unless you say it out loud.”

“Dream,” George whines, turning to look at him over his shoulder. He pouts, hoping the other will melt in his palm the way he normally does, but it doesn’t seem to work, with Dream just raising an eyebrow to ask George to get on with it.

“Sweetheart, you can back out whenever you want to.”

Frowning, George keeps his eyes trained on Dream’s. “I don’t want to back out.”

He watches Dream’s thumb trace over his skin, the touch comforting despite the camera on them, and George tries to block it out, focus on his boyfriend and him only, but it feels as though there’s another presence in the room with them and it’s all he can think about.

“If the camera is too much then I’ll turn it off,” Dream says matter-of-factly, and though it would probably help to set their dynamic back to what it usually is, it’s not what George wants.

“No,” George says, shaking his head, and he turns away from Dream before he can utter his next words, “I want this.”

Dream doesn’t have to say anything for George to know he’s smiling, and he’s sure when they watch back over the footage, he’ll see a stupid smirk on the other’s face.

“What is _this_?” Dream asks, teasing.

“You know what I mean.”

He hears the chuckle in the air, a faint laugh coming from just out of his sight, and he huffs, shielding his face from view. “Do I?” Dream questions, letting his hands roam faintly over George’s back, and if George had enough control over his own body to turn around and throttle him then he would.

“You do.” George tells him.

“But what if I need you to spell it out for me?”

Groaning, George shakes his head, looking down so his dark hair can fall in front of his eyes, keeping the camera from seeing the blush that threatens to cover his features. “ _Dream_ ,” he mumbles.

“ _What?_ ” Dream asks, clearly mocking him and he must hear when George huffs and curses him under his breath because his hands move from behind him to slide up his bare chest, only just brushing over his nipples before pulling away, taunting him.

All the touch does is make George grumble even more, and he’s scowling at being tormented like this but the anger fizzles away quickly, Dream leaning down to press small kisses against George’s spine. “Don’t be like that Georgie,” He says, moving slowly until his breath is grazing the shell of George’s ear and he can dip down to nip at his shoulder, “Just say it for me.”

“Embarrassing,” George mumbles, feeling Dream’s right hand go back to grip at his hair, and he whimpers when his head is pulled back to stare at the camera.

Dream hums, silently agreeing but not asking for anything different, and he makes sure George keeps his head up in front of him, not giving the other any chance to even think about moving. “Say it Georgie.”

His eyes flick to the side, looking everywhere except where he’s meant to, and he knows it’s probably not helping his case, the blush on his face spreading down to his neck, “Just fuck me already,” he whispers, exasperation leaking through into his tone.

“Ask nicely.”

“ _Dream!_ ” He hears the taller laugh again, finger’s loosening in his brown hair for a moment and he can already tell that his scalp will hurt in the morning.

“Okay, okay,” Dream says, giving in but not all the way. The hold he has on George’s hair gets tighter once more, making George wince slightly, discomfort slowly turning into pleasure as Dream’s grasp remains firm and unmoving. “Just say it into the camera.”

Shame fills his veins as he’s reminded of the thing that’s capturing every move he makes and he dares to look straight at it, the red blinking light causing his breathing to get heavier and heavier.

There’s a part of him that can’t get enough of this, the way both the camera and Dream make him feel is addictive, and there’s something about it that’s keeping him half hard – whether it’s the gentle touches of Dream’s left hand on his side or the feeling of the camera stuck to their bodies.

“Say it,” Dream says softly.

And he locks eyes with the camera, imagines how when he eventually goes back to England Dream will sit alone, with his laptop on where he’s downloaded the video and has it open, playing it loud, and he’s missing George more than anything.

He imagines Dream watching him, watching them, do this, and he feels so dirty – the thought of Dream sitting on his bed, legs splayed across the white sheets, his shirt off and his pants on the floor, one hand on his cock, thumb digging into the slit as he wills for George’s hand around him instead. He thinks of Dream stroking himself to the video they’re making, of George trembling over just the words he speaks, and he wants to make it good for him, give him the best orgasm he could possibly have without Dream there.

He stares at the lens, wide pleading eyes as he feels the real Dream still behind him, hips pressed against his thighs.

“ _Fuck me_.”

Dream’s reaction isn’t instant, the taller groans, gently letting go of George’s hair and moving from behind him onto his feet, probably not out of frame but that doesn’t stop George from feeling as though the shot is only capturing him.

He can hear him rummaging around in their drawers, likely searching for a bottle of lube and when he throws something down onto the bed, it only confirms George’s suspicions.

He feels Dream settle down behind him, pushing his legs apart even more and letting his hands rest on his thighs. Slowly, he leans forwards, resting his body on his elbows to keep himself stable as he hears Dream take a long breath. Fingers squeeze his thighs, toying with his skin and pressing down hard, probably trying to leave little purple marks that’ll last for days on end.

He shy’s away from the camera when he hears the familiar pop of the bottle, Dreams hands leave his thighs for a moment in order to squeeze some out onto his fingers, and he presses the first one against George’s entrance, not going any further and just holding it in place.

Letting out a breathless gasp, George attempts to press back against Dream’s fingers, force his hand deep inside of him until his knuckles are touching his pale skin, but Dream doesn’t let him do anything, keeps him held in place so he can leave teasing touches against his hole.

“Ready?” Dream asks and George wants to turn around and berate him for it, but he knows the others insistence on making him ask only comes from a good place.

George nods, realising the other probably can’t see the action and saying “Yeah,” under his breath.

Thankfully, Dream doesn’t ask him to repeat it, one hand holds onto his hip as the other presses down and his index finger pushes into George’s body. He winces slightly, the intrusion uncomfortable until Dream changes the angle, slowly pulling his finger out and continuously rubbing the side of George’s body to keep him calm.

He’s glad Dream is being careful with him, at least right now, because the tension in his shoulders is starting to evaporate as he remembers just how good Dream can make him feel. He’s breathing heavily onto his arm, forehead pressing against the sheets and he feels the taller keep up the motion of his finger.

After a moment, he pushes back experimentally against Dream’s hand, and Dream lets him do as he pleases, moving to the same rhythm, and it’s slightly awkward, it’s not enough to make him feel full, but he takes it, just to make it hurt less when they finally move to the next step.

Lips press to the small of his back, and a second finger attempts to nudge in beside the first. George sucks in a breath, closing his eyes as it slips in and it takes him a while to get used to the feeling.

Dream scissors his fingers apart, his other hand going back to squeeze at George’s thigh, and he feels the blond move and his breath trails over his back before drifting down to where his hand lies.

“Pretty,” Dream whispers, his right hand still pumping in and out of George’s body.

George has barely gotten used to the second finger when Dream’s teeth scrape over his thigh, making him lean forwards in shock, and he feels Dream scissor his fingers out inside of him at the same time.

He tenses, gasping when Dream nips at his thigh, sucking dark bruises onto his skin and blowing cool air over the marks he leaves. Whining, George tries to ask for Dream to slow down a bit, but when the other completely let’s go of him, draws his fingers out from his body and leaves him empty and trembling on the bed.

George frowns and lets a noise of complaint tumble out past his lips.

“What’re you doing?” George asks, words slurring together.

The sound of footsteps confuses him, and he tilts his head to the side, watching in confusion as Dream wanders over to the camera, picking it up and pointing it towards him. He keeps his eyes on his boyfriend, purposefully looking directly past what he’s holding in his hands and watching his face as he brings it closer.

Dream manoeuvres around the side of the bed, playfully holding the camera in front of him so it can capture the expression on George’s face – and George lets his eyes flutter shut so he doesn’t have to think about it too much.

“Sweetheart,” Dream hums, and George can feel him getting closer, “Open your eyes.”

It’d be useless to say no, Dream knows exactly how-to sweet talk him into doing what he asks, so without even trying to deny him, George’s opens up his eyes to stare into the camera. His eyelids droop slightly, and he doesn’t have the energy to pick himself up and give the other a show, just letting out a soft sound when wet, messy kisses are pressed against his neck.

The camera probably can’t pick anything up, just recording a blur of skin as Dream makes his way down his back, kissing every exposed piece of skin he can reach. George wishes he could see Dream’s expression as he feels a hand knead his slim thigh, his breathing getting shallow at the need for more.

“ _Fuck,_ ” George sighs, feeling Dream’s fingers, cold and dipped in more lube, teasing him again – and it’s getting repetitive, but George knows Dream just doesn’t want to hurt him.

This time he adds a third, and it’s slightly painful, but George doesn’t mind because at least it’s something. His back arches, the feeling of being fucked by Dream’s fingers dirty and causing a whine to fall from his lips.

Behind him, Dream is still being careful, he doesn’t make too much movement other than keeping his fingers thrusting in and out of George. Eventually he changes the direction, George wondering if he’ll just find the spot he so desperately wants him to, and he knows he’s looking for it as well – the camera most likely pointing at his fingers as they flex inside of his body and he angles them up, searching around.

There’s a chuckle in the air when he skims across the bundle of nerves that makes George moan and clutch at their sheets, and his cock strains against his chest, fully hard and begging to be touched.

“There?” Dream asks, rubbing against his prostate with a devilish hint in his voice.

His fingers curl, rubbing against that spot relentlessly, and George knows he’s doing it on purpose, recording him gasp and fall apart with his head on the sheets and his ass up in the air.

“So good for me,” Dream says, pulling his fingers out when George is fully stretched, and he feels so empty all of a sudden, hole twitching at the sudden lack of touch.

Biting down on his own lips until they’re red and swollen, George hears Dream go to put the camera back in place, he’s resting on his elbows, hearing him rest it down on the desk and position it so it’s pointing straight at the two of them.

Dream settles down behind him, both hands holding onto his hips and he feels Dream’s cock move so it’s resting on the small of his back. He knows they aren’t ready yet, he hasn’t heard Dream open the lube again and pushing back against him would only add to his desperation, but he can’t stop grinding back and letting Dream’s cock catch on his rim.

Tutting, Dream pulls back, pouring lube into his palm and stroking himself lazily, a low moan leaving his throat as he does so. He holds himself at the base, lining his cock up with George’s entrance and curiosity takes the best of the smaller man, who turns to try and watch what’s going on to no avail, with Dream leaning over him to tap his head and bump him back into position.

“Hurry up,” George whimpers, grabbing at his own arms above his head and a pitiful whimper leaves his lips as Dream threatens to push in.

A broad hand squeezes his waist, the other guiding Dream’s cock as he slowly nudges into George’s trembling body. He tries to move his hips back and speed things up, but Dream doesn’t let him, going slowly until he’s pressed flush against George’s ass.

“So tight Georgie,” Dream says inaudibly, not moving and keeping himself buried deep inside of the other.

Below him, George feels as though he’s being split open, three fingers possibly not enough to prepare him for how big Dream actually is – and it’s as though every time they have sex, he forgets just how full Dream makes him feel.

He’s lying on his front, stuffed full of Dream’s cock and being recorded so he can watch the way he’s struggling to take what the blond is giving him. Panting, he thinks of the blissed-out expression that’s probably on Dream’s face and he’s so glad he agreed to doing this because fuck, he needs to be able to see that.

“Move,” He breathes out, his voice muffled on the sheets and his eyes roll back into his head, jaw dropping open as Dream grips his hair, pulling him further back onto his cock and lifting his head so he can speak clearly.

“What was that?” Dream asks.

“Move you idiot,” George fights to say, and Dream moves his hips vaguely, making George curse quietly.

He hears Dream scoff, dropping him back down and pulling out so that only the head of his cock remains in the other’s body.

“Look up,” Dream teases and George is halfway through doing so when he’s stopped by a shudder being ripped through his body.

Fervently, Dream thrusts back into George’s tight heat, giving him no warning before he starts to push in and out of his shaking body, their skin slapping together and making a loud sound that George can barely even hear over the moans that tumble out of his own mouth.

His palms are shaking, the muscles in his legs tense as Dream fucks him into the mattress, knocking the breath out of his lungs with every thrust. He can’t talk anymore, pleasure shooting up his spine as Dream slides in and out, the pain he had felt previously having disappeared.

“Fuck…please,” George moans, barely audible, and he knows that his words won’t have reached the camera, that they’ll just be shared between the two of them in that particular moment.

It feels so good, being fucked like this, so deep and hitting into the same place over and over again. Each time Dream thrusts in, George feels as though he’s falling to pieces, his words are filthy, and they make George’s face scrunch up, the dirty whispers in the air making him shake.

He feels his arms get tugged behind his back, wrists being held together to pull him up, and for a moment George feels as though he’s going to fall, with Dream’s hips slowing slightly, but a hand snakes around his waist, dragging him back so his back is touching Dream’s chest.

George can practically hear Dream’s heartbeat, and he’s being pulled down onto Dream’s cock, practically sat on his lap and enjoying every second of it. His eyebrows furrow together, and Dream changes the angle, tilting his hips upwards to search for George’s prostate. He searches for a few seconds, already knowing everything about the other’s body and putting it to use.

“Oh my, _oh my god,_ ” George nearly shouts, moans getting louder and louder to tell Dream that he’s found it, “ _Fuck,_ that’s so good, _so good Dream._ ”

The thrusts have changed to something calmer, and George is drunk on the feeling when he hears Dream whisper, “Camera,” into his ear.

Hesitantly, his eyes flicker over to the red blinking light on his desk, the reminder that this moment will be there, able to be painted on a screen forever, flooding through his mind.

He wonders if the camera can pick up on every detail between the two of them, of George’s flushed, red face and his skin that’s sticky with sweat, and he hopes it does – he wants to be able to go over this, sat on Dream’s lap and watching himself with shocked eyes as he takes everything he’s given and absolutely loves it.

He hopes that Dream’s enjoying this as much as he is, sure he suggested it, but he needs to know whether the thought of watching himself fuck George like this is as arousing as it is for him, if it makes him just as weak as George feels.

“Keep looking at the camera baby,” Dream whispers into his ear, and it takes everything George has to not let his head hang down and moan whorishly.

The arms around his waist squeeze tightly, as though Dream is endlessly trying to pull him closer, and George makes a pleased noise when his lips attach themselves to the side of George’s neck, sucking a dark bruise onto the pale canvas.

One arm moves from around him, touching his hip and when he looks down, he can see how under his skin, a faint shade of violet shines through, with Dream’s fingers ghosting over the little spots he’s already made, just to tease a bit more.

The pace has gone to something that taunts George, he wants it faster, harder, and he knows Dream wants it too. He tilts his head back, letting it rest on Dream’s shoulder and a sharp thrust up into his body makes him keen, eyes widening impossibly.

Against his stomach, his cock is red and swollen, and there’s pre-cum leaking from the tip, it hurts, and George feels like he might cry if he doesn’t get any friction soon. He’s so desperate, being fucked slowly so he can feel every part of Dream inside of him.

“Faster,” he barely manages to say, and their eyes lock for a moment, but it passes too quickly.

Dream, predictably, doesn’t give in so easily, “What’s the magic word?” he taunts.

“ _Please_ ,” George gasps, not above pleading, “ _Please I need it so much_.”

“One more time,” Dream says, “For the camera.”

Glancing over at the lens, George whines, it’s possibly the last shred of dignity that he has left, but he’s so desperate, he needs something more so without even having to think about it he lets the words leave his lips, “ _Please.. fuck me_.”

The reaction is automatic, Dream barely gives him chance to breathe before he’s being pushed down into the mattress, Dream starting to fuck into him without any mercy, just as he wants him to, Dream’s pace becomes brutal, and he’s putting everything into fucking George the best he can.

He doesn’t think it can get better, his limbs feel as though they’re on fire and the heat in his chest is building with each passing second, but then Dream leans over him to wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him in time to each thrust and making him writhe forcibly.

He’s nearly screaming, hands fisting in the sheets as Dream completely ruins him, each thrust leaving him shaking and if he’s able to walk tomorrow it’ll be a shock. Each sound that leaves his mouth is pathetic and he’s drooling onto the mattress, his mind clouded as he falls deeper and deeper.

George doesn’t know whether to try and lean forwards into Dream’s hand or melt into the way Dream is fucking him, his mind is so foggy and all he can say is Dream’s name. There’s nothing he can do except take it; he doesn’t even think he has the strength to even form a coherent sentence.

“Fuck,” Dream groans, “You’re so hot Georgie, so good like this.”

George can only moan in response.

“You like this?” Dream asks, making sure to keep up the dominating pace he had set, “Nearly crying because of how good I’m fucking you.”

He’s so close, Dream’s dick touching his prostate in a way that makes him cry out loudly, with pleasure shooting through his body.

“Please,” He begs.

“What about the camera?” Dream asks, “Do you like being filmed sweetheart? You want to be on the big screen one day?”

He’s pushing George so close to the edge, his pace so violent that George feels as though he’s about to pass out.

The pleasure that builds up in his stomach is overwhelming, he’s dangling on the edge of his orgasm and he doesn’t know how long he can last anymore.

Dream’s voice is low, and he can hear the drawn-out groan that’s the taller can’t hold down. “So dirty Georgie.”

He annunciates it with a sharp thrust of his hips, the hand he has on George’s dick moves faster and George fucking sobs, clenching around Dream’s cock and feeling his vision go blurry. White washes over his eyes, and he’s shaking with pleasure as his orgasm rips through his body. His back arches and he cums hard against his chest; Dream still fucks him as though nothing has changed though, helping him ride out the longest orgasm he’s ever had.

George doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this much pleasure, Dream’s being so good to him, fucking him through the aftershocks until it becomes too much, and George’s glassy eyes scrunch shut. He’s overstimulated and completely limp, not even able to move anymore and he struggles to stay sane as Dream gets closer to his own orgasm.

“M’close baby,” Dream murmurs and before George can process it Dream is spilling deep into his body, painting his insides and staying buried to the hilt inside of his body as he does so. He feels Dream’s hips twitch, stuttering before he can pull out halfway, and he imagines that the other feels just as tired as he does.

Whimpering, George lets his lower half fall to the bed when Dream pulls out fully, breathing heavily behind him, and he watches sleepily as Dream steps away from him and grabs the camera.

He’s slightly confused when he feels the other sit next to him, pointing the camera at George’s naked and completely body exposed on the bed, and he can’t fight it when Dream rests a hand on his thighs, pushing his legs apart and toying with his hole.

George squeaks, trying half-heartedly to clamp his legs together but Dream pokes at where his cum leaks out of George’s body, pushing it back in playfully and he lets out a small laugh before dropping the camera back down on the bed – the red light now off.

“Fuck,” George mutters, “I can’t feel my legs.”

Next to him, Dream scoffs, his hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead. He drapes an arm around George, moving so they’re lying next to each other and George can rest his head on his neck. Letting out a soft noise of approval, George tries to get closer and share his warmth.

“Was that okay?” Dream asks, kissing the top of George’s dark hair and George hums, nodding though the other can barely distinguish it.

“Definitely.”

When he wakes up, George knows he’ll be sticky and uncomfortable and he’ll bitch at Dream for letting him ruin their sheets and leaving him struggling to lift his arms, but for now he doesn’t mind. He’s drunk on the post-orgasm bliss, letting sleep wash over all his limbs, and he can feel Dream settle into a more comfortable position above his head.

So hey, maybe George won’t be able to move in the morning, but at least they got a good video out of it – one he presumably won’t forget about for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are so appreciated and really make my day  
> come talk to me on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/venus__43?s=09) too !!!


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